#there are already other things i need to fix that are way worse :'^)

[revelboo]

OOO I FOUND IT! I know I learned about it in history class, it was the Amago clan of ninjas 🥷 that had that saying “Those who desire only technique will never understand it's everything beyond that”. And here’s two quotes by Sensei Toshitsugu Takamatsu also known as ‘The Last Shinobi’: “How difficult is life when one is not surprised by anything and laughing, everyday.” And “Knowing that disease and disaster are natural parts of life is the key to overcoming adversity with a calm and happy spirit.”

It was one of Sensei Takamatsu’s lessons about keeping spiritual peace and balance while not letting internal darkness consume one’s life. (Hope you don’t mind me doing themed quotes, I find traditional ninjas and samurai, especially their lessons and proverbs, fascinating😅).

The Samurai Code Pt 2

IDW Drift x Reader

• You’re real, warm against his servos as he makes his way through the halls toward the medbay. He’s also painfully aware of how badly you’re shaking, the way you’re curling into yourself. “Can you understand me?” He asks, parting his servos enough he can see your eyes almost squinted shut, face drawn like you’re in pain even though he’s sure he’s not holding you tightly. Feeling of one of your tiny hands grabbing onto his servo, clinging to him.

• That prickling, fiery feeling is a tide washing over you in waves, stealing your breath when it crashes over you and leaving you trembling in agony when it washes out. “Make it stop,” you manage, pressing your face against that giant hand as the sensation tears you apart again, shredding you into nothing but suffocating pain. “Please.”

• “You’ll be okay,” he promises, lying to you, because he has no idea what’s happening. Spark twisting at the agony in your words, there’s nothing he can do but run a servo against your spine in what he hopes is a comforting touch as he enters the medbay. Ratchet looks up from where he’s sterilizing tools when he enters. “I can’t fix this,” he whispers, holding out his caged hands, because he can feel the way your heart beat shifts into something frantic and wild with every time you clench into a tighter ball. Those little, pained noises you’re making going right through him.

• “Where’d that one come from?” Ratchet groans, reaching to accept your little form and he’s almost reluctant to give you up as crazy as it is, you’re just clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you together. Hovering as Ratchet lifts you from his hands and reaches for a scanner to pass over you as the shaking gets worse. Eyes opening and finding him, little hand trembling and reaching out for him.

• There’s two of them now. You’re dimly aware of the first one explaining how you’d just appeared, but everything is so fragmented, pain breaking you apart piece by piece. And then there’s panic choking you, until you’re reaching for the first one. The one with that soft, soothing voice and gentle hands. Wanting to ask him to not leave you here, please, don’t leave you alone, but unable to focus enough to say any of it. But then he’s reaching for you as the other one frowns, extending a huge servo to you and in your fear, you latch onto him, the only thing even slightly familiar amid the pain.

• You curl yourself around his servo, pressing your face against him. Needing him and he stills as the shaking eases and you slump into an exhausted sleep. “Best guess it has to do with however they got here,” Ratchet says as he studies his scanner. “Rodimus already alerted me that he found another one, so you’ll have to look after that one.”

• “You can fix this,” he says, spark twisting uneasily as he carefully accepts you back from Ratchet, aware of how fragile you feel in his servos. “Ratchet?” That look the medic levels at him is answer enough, but it’s not the one he wants as his attention dips to you.

Previous

[fuctacles]

<< 10 | - | 12 >>

Robin finds them sprawled on the grass, resting after their play break. Steve notices her first, his head raising and tail wagging excitedly, though he doesn't move from his spot warming Eddie's thigh. 

"Steve?" 

That's when his friend realizes what got him so excited and he waves to Robin as she spots them in the middle of the yard. Their eyes meet and he knows she's surprised to see Steve in his other form again, but she doesn't say anything. Their werewolf friend yips happily and stands up, away from Eddie's petting to greet his best friend. 

"Hello, Buckley."

"Hello, Munson." She puts her hands on her hips in a perfect mirror of Steve. "I see you two are hard at work?" Robin quickly folds when Steve sits at her feet, his tail moving so fast it is barely visible. She squats down to scratch around his ears. "Hi, dingus."

"Exactly, and we're taking a well-deserved break right now," Eddie says with a smile, sitting up. "The barbeque is out and cleaned up, and we're almost done with the pool and chairs," he sums up their work so far, pointing vaguely to where everything is. 

"Damn, it's like you don't need me at all, huh?" she asks mostly towards Steve with a tilt of her head. He nibs at her fingers in retaliation before trotting away. "Hey, I was joking!"

But Steve picks up the ball still lying next to Eddie's leg and brings it back to Robin. She looks at him in confusion, so Eddie quickly swoops in with an explanation.

"We were playing fetch!"

The yellow, damp ball falls away from Steve's mouth like he might have just gotten self-conscious about the thing. But Robin takes it in stride, grabbing the toy and straightening up. Her friend quickly forgets his inhibitions and straightens up, hyperfocused on her raised hand. 

"Fair warning, I'm not the best thrower. But I guess I can't be much worse than Munson."

"Hey!"

She proves her words seconds later when the ball barely misses his head and Steve jumps right over his body, making him yelp. 

"Jesus H Christ you two!" he yells at them, but is genuinely happy for his friend enjoying his dog form without second guessing himself. 

He idly picks at the grass, observing them and dodging Buckley's shitty aim, wondering how he would feel if he could shift to a creature loved by everyone and with simple needs and ways to express himself. It sounds freeing, but he likes too many things his opposable thumbs can do, like playing the guitar, petting a dog, or playing fetch. 

Does Steve have things he needs his thumbs for? Is he still playing basketball? Maybe Eddie could teach him the guitar. Or Maybe Steve just needs a healthy balance between human and animal treatment. 

Eddie is so preoccupied with his thoughts, that the next ball Buckley throws boinks right off the side of his head. 

Steve skids to a stop in front of him, eyeing the skittering ball like prey, but in the end, jumps up to Eddie and starts licking at the sore spot, while Buckley yells her apologies in the background. 

"Okay, okay, I'll live! It's just a flesh wound!" he laughs, while Steve's hot tongue is ruining his already questionable fringe. The dog boops his cheek with a cold nose and goes to pick up the ball. Eddie takes it as his clue to stand up and fix himself up a bit.

"It pains me to say it, but I guess it's our sign to get back to work," he sighs, dusting off his knees. Steve shows up next to him, eyes huge and the ball between his teeth. "Nuh-uh, man, we can play more later. We gotta finish the yard today so we only have the food to worry about tomorrow."

Steve huffs, the ball falling from his mouth with a sad thump, but he walks away towards the house, bumping Robin's leg on his way to the back door. While he disappears inside, Eddie jogs up to her. 

"Hey," he says again. "I'm trying to help Steve out of his funk." 

Robin raises her eyebrows. 

"How?" she crosses her arms. 

He suddenly feels uneasy, shifting his weight while trying to give his theories and plans shape. There's no one better to talk it out with than Stev's best friend, so he pushes through. 

"Well, he likes how we treat the dog-him, so I think we should treat him more like that on a daily basis. You know, scratches, praises, and shit," he looks up at Buckley hoping he doesn't sound completely insane. "So he likes being human a bit more."

She hums, glancing back at the house.

"You're right," Robin says to his surprise. It's not something he hears often. "Though I think it works best with you."

"What do you mean?" he asks with a frown. 

But she waves him off, turning to where Steve is emerging through the back door wearing loose sweatpants and with his hairy chest on display. 

"Robs!" he greets his friend with a grin, gathering her for a side hug that quickly turns into a friendly chokehold. 

Eddie hopes Buckley can sense his menacing glare despite their roughhousing.

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1

@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible

[meydang]

cute wings

(sfw)

Nameless!Sunday x Nameless!reader

Based on Sunday's ultimate animation and my own headcanons about halovian's lore.

.

.

.

"So what was that move you whip out earlier? The one with the vines and everything!" You said, clearly impressed while sitting down on one of the couch.

"Have you been hiding the other two pair of wings or do they only come out when you do that last move?" You asked eagerly when Sunday enter the parlor car, the both of you having just gotten back from your trailblazing expidition together. Your eyes following him as he joins you on the couch, with sparks of curiosity in it.

It hasn't been that long since Sunday joined the Astral express, but he could definitely say that it's been enough for him to start opening up to all the nameless and vice versa.

"Ah, are you refering to my supporting spell?" This is the case especially for you, with your seemingly endless energy and desire to learn about everything, it's only a matter of time before you start flooding him with all these question about anything that piqued your interest.

"For halovians, our wings are like a representation of our emotion and power, similar to that of our halo." Sunday pause for a moment, you guessed to try and think of an answer that will satisfy your question.

"To put it simply, take that fight we just won earlier for example, I was using my power to aid us, the wings that appeared were due to my strong emotion and use of power at the moment." He turned to look at you as you nod multiple times, trying to grasp your head around the new information like a lost puppy trying to figure out where it is.

You do that quite often - something Sunday has took notice and find endearing.

Cute, he think.

"Sooo... does that mean the wings can only come out when you are in a state like that?" You finally said after some time. "Aw pity, I was hoping you could make them appear anytime you know, I think they are really adorable!" You said what you were thinking with all honesty, completely oblivious to the fact that your last comment caught the halovian off guard and flustered to his core, hints of red dusting his cheeks.

"Th-that is not entirely correct, I can make them visible if I want to, but I'll need to be in a state of strong emotion or focus on my power in that case." Sunday tries to brush of your compliment about his wings with his answer, but before he could given it anymore thoughts, you have already came up with an idea.

Sunday jolts slightly as you prop your chin onto his shoulder, your face display a smug expression, looking up at him with your hand on top of his own.

"Wait, if I'm correct... Then I'll just have to make you feel emotions strong enough for your cute wings to come out, right?"

Huh? What did you just say? What are you planning? How did- what? There is a million things going through Sunday's head right now and the fact that your gaze are still fixed on him while this is happening does not help at all. Sunday doesn't know what is worse, the way he got insanely flustered just by a few compliments or you being extremely close to him right now.

"Well...? Aren't you gonna say anything?" He heard you said in the slowest and most teasing way possible, as if to get even more reaction from him. Before he could even answer, you stood up and move infront of him.

"Sunday." you said while bending down to face him, your hands on your knees and face tilting down at him with an adoring smile.

Huh?

"Yes?" He managed to say, his head spinning to guess what are you planning to say next.

"Although it hadn't been long since you join the express, you have been adapting and trying your best to keep up with the crew really well." Sunday can feel his cheeks burning with every sweet words uttered from your mouth. You on the other hand, are determined to get his marvelous wings to come out.

"You have done a great job as a nameless... Don't you think so too?" You continue, still looking down at him but leaned in a bit closer, too close for Sunday to maintain his composure. If he still has any, that is.

"Ah, th-thank you. That's very kind of you to say." As his wings move to cover his face, he can here an audible 'aww' coming from you which caught him by surprise. Resulting in him moving them to his side again, for a better view of what was happening.

"It worked!" Opening his eyes, Sunday sees you smiling and gushing over his wings - ah, right, his other wings that have appeared due to him being oh so flustered just by your simple remarks.

"May I touch them?" You asked, your gaze gentle, yet still intense that it makes Sunday gulp nervously as his face turn even more red.

"Yes, you may." Sunday doesn't know why he gave you permission, as if you being in such close proximity to him wasn't enough to get his heart pounding. Especially with the fact that his wings are actually pretty sensitive.

With a happy grin, you reach out to glide over the feathers with the back of your hand, not missing how doing it make Sunday shudders a bit.

"Oh, sorry!" You retrieve your hand after noticing.

"No no, it's fine... please continue." He assured, not wanting you to feel bad. Even if he doesn't exactly want you to keep thumbing his wings like this... purely because it's making him all embarrassed and a blushing mess.

"You know... what I said earlier about you joining the express. I wasn't just teasing you, I actually meant it." You reach out for his wings again, this time with a soft smile, making sure he knows you are being sincere.

Sunday made a dumbfounded expression, or atleast you think he is, his face shows a mix of gratitude and confusion as he stare at you.

"I am grateful that you hold me on such high regards, though... I do not believe I have made any significant contribution to the express, more less better than all of you." Sunday answered truthfully. How could you say all these good things about him when he doesn't deserve any of it? How are you still able to welcome him with open arm? After all his mistakes, after the grand pursuit of a dream paradise through such manipulative methods, and-

"Sunday!"

He blinked,

Once,

Twice,

"Hey, are you okay? You just zoned out for a moment." You move your hands from his wings to his shoulder, sitting down next to him again, tone worried.

"Sorry... I was just deep in thought. Were you saying something?" He quickly apologized, feeling bad for making you worried. Yet again another reason he doesn't deserve your praises, Sunday blames himself.

"I said stop thinking bad about yourself. Don't ever say anything like that... nobody is perfect, everyone has their own flaws and values. You just have to not let your doubts get to you." You turned Sunday towards your direction a bit, so that he's looking at you in the eyes.

"Hm, promise me you'll never think negatively about yourself again." You said firmly, waiting for him.

"I-I promise." With an exhale Sunday replied to you, smilling. "Thank you."

You smile back "There we go, now that's my little angle~"

!?

This is the second time you have caught him off guard in this conversation. Little angle? At this point he swear you will be the death of him eventually, Sunday think as you suddenly lit up.

"Well, let's lighten things up a bit..." you said, pulling out your phone. "Say cheeseeee" what are y-

Snap

Just like that, a picture of Sunday smilling sheepishly and flapping his wings was sent to the astral express family group chat. Earning you a panic, embarrassed Sunday and the multiple 'aww's from the trailblazer and March.

_

The Astral Express Family

You: (picture)

You: I found a happy bird on the express today~

March: aww

Trailblazer: wow! Six wings!

Trailblazer: aww

Sunday: ...

_

[typicalopposite]

wip wednesday <3

so I have been tagged by quite a few people (thank you all 🫶 @desert--moonchild @bidisasterevankinard @onthewaytosomewhere @lavenderleahy -- got bamboozled by @sunnywithachanceofbi -- @judymarch15 @marvelousbuckley @tailsbeth-writes @cafe-con-letty & @theotherbuckley ... and that's going back a month) over the span of... a time for different things... lol I have not been keeping up with the games I have been tagged in like I use to... its been a messy life! BUT I'm finally catching up by sharing (quite a bit of) not an already established wip... but a new one! you know, now that we are all collectively in our grieving/fix-it era <3 so consider yourselves -- eyes Chrissy -- tagged back!

take me back - tommy amnesia fic

Tommy cracks his eyes open, fully expecting to be met with that damned water stain on his ceiling he keeps meaning to get looked at — when the spot caves in on him he’s going to regret it — but for the past six months his mind has been on… other things. Regardless, this is not the sight he is met with, and he looks up in confusion at the garage ceiling instead. He blinks a few times before realizing that he’s laying on the cold concrete floor. It takes just a moment longer before he is overcome by a splitting headache and his vision blurs. 

“What the fuck…” he groans, forcing himself to sit up. He reaches for his head, unable to pinpoint where exactly the pain is radiating from; he feels it throughout his entire skull... it’s in his eyes, his temples, all the way down into his neck. He’s not even sure what happened. If he passed out; if he tripped… Why was he even in the garage when he was supposed to be getting ready. The room feels like it’s spinning, and he feels waves of nausea wash over him. He doubts he’ll be able to stand up unassisted, so he crawls over to his workout bench and uses it for support. 

He almost crumples back to the floor from the vertigo he gets from rising to his feet, but he holds tight to the pull bar and takes a few deep breaths until it finally subsides. He opens his eyes again, relieved his vision has cleared, and tries to take a step. His legs are wobbly but he manages to remain stable and upright as he crosses the garage and walks back into his house. 

That’s when he realizes it’s already getting dark. Shit. He was supposed to be getting ready! He goes for his phone but it’s not in his pocket, so he slowly makes his way to his room, except it’s not on the charger either— 

And his bed spread is different… 

His bed spread is—

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut as the headache continues to get worse. “Fuuuck…” he drawls out, once again reaching for his head. He needs to get medicine, to find his phone, and to get out the door or he is going to be late. He can’t be late tonight. Tonight is special.

Another deep breath and he takes another step, towards the bathroom this time. He pulls the medicine cabinet door open, eyes going to the middle shelf where he keeps his ibuprofen… and finds a prescription— two prescriptions actually. He stares at the little orange bottles, both made out to him… one is acetaminophen-- and since he doesn’t have time to figure out why they are there-- he ignores the second and just takes the prescribed dose of the pain medicine and recloses the door. 

All he has to do now is to find his damn phone. 

It’s not in the kitchen, or on the coffee table, or out in his truck, or buried in the couch cushions… The last place he goes is back into the garage; lo and behold it’s there. The problem? It’s shattered. How it got shattered he doesn’t know. Possibly from his fall. 

He tries the side button and the screen lights up. It’s five thirty; he needs to go. He tries to carefully input his passcode: 5724. It doesn’t work. He tries it again. Still nothing. One more time and then another… he assumes the problem is the broken screen, but the phone disables for one minute and he doesn't have time to keep trying. Oh well, he can just leave now, and be there a little early. It’s not like it actually matters if he’s early, anyway. 

He goes back into the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror— reels at the images looking back because, damn. His eyes are bloodshot with dark circles and his face is puffy and drained of all color as if he’s been crying. Has he been crying? He pushes the thought aside and takes out his eye drops, dropping a couple into each eye and wincing from the pain tilting his head back causes. The medicine will kick in soon, the headache will subside. He will be early… but when is extra time with his boyfriend a bad thing?

*

He parks and climbs out of his truck, the remnants of his headache finally starting to fade away. He takes the stairs two at a time once he’s inside the building, getting that giddy little pep in his step he always gets the moment he reaches Evan’s floor. He strides down the hallway, feeling light on his feet— like he’s floating on air. He reaches the door, lifts his hand and raps against the wood… once, twice, and three times. 

There’s a quiet commotion from inside, accompanied by the sounds of voices— plural, so someone else is here. Tommy tries to think about whether Evan said he had any plans prior to their date… he can’t remember. It doesn’t matter. He bounces on the balls of his feet, feeling his heart pick up in speed as footsteps get closer to the door. The lock turns, the knob twists and the door opens. 

Tommy can feel the tug of his smile spreading high up onto his cheeks. “Hey—”

“Uhm… Hi?” A voice that’s not Evan’s replies— Tommy stares at a face that is not Evan’s… A man he doesn’t recognize; dressed in comfortable clothes-- practically sleep clothes-- with tousled hair and a sated look that instantly has Tommy feeling some type of way. He tilts his head to see the number on the door, thinking maybe he came to the wrong apartment. He didn’t, and so he’s left thoroughly confused at who this stranger is and why he looks so… comfortable in his boyfriend’s home. “Tommy, right?” The guy continues. He lets his eyes travel over Tommy, like he’s studying him, keeping a careful and friendly enough smile on his face. 

“Wha- uh, I’m… sorry. Do I know you?” 

“Doubt it. But I have heard plenty about you…” The voice is suave; his tone is flat but not necessarily cold. Who the fuck even is—

“Dylan?” That is Evan’s voice… Tommy peers around this guy— around Dylan to see his boyfriend come bopping off the stairs. “Who is it— oh… T- Tommy?!” Evan’s face blanks, and his arms stall just as he was starting to slip them around this— this— Dylan’s waist. Tommy thinks he might actually be sick. Evan looks just as debauched, in his gray sweatpants and no shirt— sweat glistening over his bare chest leaves very little to be imagined of what the two were up to before he knocked. He finally truly looks at Dylan and the shirt is Evan’s… his oversized faded Nirvana band tee. Tommy has had to quickly slip it on when they have been disturbed time and time before. “What are you doing here?” Evan asks.

A sarcastic laugh bubbles its way out of Tommy and he has to take a step back from the door— from them. “W- What am I doing here?” He asks.  “What am I doing here…” he repeats. His face is starting to flush and there are tears filling his eyes no amount of blinking speed would be able to push away. He dares a look back at Evan. Wants to see if he even looks guilty; does he even look sorry? He just looks shocked, and that pisses Tommy off more. “I can't believe this...” he mutters under his breath and turns on his heels, willing his feet to get him out of this nightmare as fast as possible. 

“Tommy?” 

Ignore him. 

“T- Tommy!”

Ignore him. Forget him.

The steps are easier to get down than up; he is practically jumping the whole way down each flight. He should have known… he should have prepared better… he should have never given him that second chance… Tommy knew this thing with Evan was only going to be temporary— Evan was figuring himself out, and Tommy was more than willing to be the kind, caring, and supportive hand through the journey. But Tommy knew one day he would reach the end, he wouldn’t need the security of Tommy anymore, and Tommy was prepared to bow out gracefully. He just thought they had more time. 

But this…

This hurts so much more than he had anticipated that that would. 

“Tommy…” 

A hand grabs his shoulder and he realizes he has stopped just outside the apartment building. The cool night air is drying out the tears that have already streaked down his face. His chest feels like it’s caving in… and great, his headache is back. He shrugs Evan’s hand off of him, and starts moving towards his truck again. 

“What— Dammit Tommy! Are you seriously going to be this stubborn right now…”

That stops him. He turns and glares at Evan, taking a step towards him with seemingly enough fury Evan stops in his tracks, keeping distance between them. “Stubborn…?” Tommy chokes out. “Are you really calling me stubborn right now?”

“I- I mean… yeah! That’s how you’re acting right now!” Evan crosses his arms, having the audacity to appear angry. “You come to my apartment, had a stare down with my boyfriend, then just stormed off with no explanation!” 

Tommy feels his heart sink— hell it does more than that… it falls all the way to the floor and shatters. “B- Boyfriend…” he repeats. This has to be some kind of a prank. It has to be. “How can you stand there and look so calm about this… You—” You asshole… You lying, manipulative— “Cheater…” 

The look on Evan’s face at that word almost— not fully, but almost— surprises Tommy. So stunned; his eyes bouncing around from Tommy’s, to the ground, to the cars around them, up to the sky… before finally coming back to Tommy’s. “Ch- Cheater? Tommy.. wh- what are you talking about.” Tommy huffs out another sarcastic laugh and turns to angrily storm the rest of the way to his truck, all the while knowing Evan isn’t going to just let him. Maybe there’s even a part of him hoping Evan stops him with a viable explanation, because this… this can't be how it ends— this is going to do more than just crush him… it’s going to annihilate him. “Oh my god…” Evan groans and as Tommy suspected he would, starts after him again. “Tommy! Can you please— just this once— stop running and talk to me?” 

“Talk about what, Evan…” Tommy all but screams and, oddly enough, that seems to stop Evan in his tracks. “What do you want me to say? That I should have seen this coming… That I should have known it was too good to be true. Or maybe admit that I always knew I wouldn't be your forever, no matter how bad I wanted to be… but I sure as hell didn’t see this—” he gestures frantically at Evan then up at the apartment building. “—being how it ended.” The more he let the words spill out, the more confused Evan looked. “Or should I just come out and address the elephant in the room— the man up in your apartment you’re cheating on your boyfriend with.” 

Evan’s brows pull together, hardening his stare into something Tommy has never been on the receiving end of; it hurts to see, instead of angering him like it probably should. “I don’t know if you’re drunk… or if this is some kind of joke… but it’s not funny— it’s not fair! You— You don’t get to barge back into my life unannounced— today of all days. Then— then you accuse me of— That man up in my apartment is my boyfriend, Tommy… he has been for eight months now.” 

Tommy feels like a bomb was shoved down his throat and detonated. His entire body trembles and goes through after shocks of what Evan said. Partially from the unexpected sting of jealousy at the thought of someone being with Evan longer than he has… but mostly because of the absurdity of it all; does Evan really expect him to buy into the nonsense he’s spewing; claiming he has been in this other relationship for this long— and on their anniversary. Except Evan looks serious. 

Tommy tries to find his voice; he tries to string some words together in his head to say something back. “W- What?” is all he manages to come up with; his voice betrays him, coming out small and broken. 

Evan steps closer to him, cracks clearly forming in the cold and serious look he was just giving Tommy, making way for looks of concern, or confusion… or maybe even of sadness. “Tommy,” he says the name for the upteenth time, and Tommy feels himself flinching at his own name like it assaulted him. “Are you— Are you okay? What’s going on? Why— why are you here?” He steps closer, Tommy steps back. 

Just like that the medicine’s effect dissipates and his headache comes rushing back with a vengeance. Tommy’s vision blurs and he gasps at the return of the pain, now with a spot to single the bulk of it to. He brings his hand up to the back of his head, fingers instantly touching something wet. 

“Will you stop— dammit Tommy, stop running away from me,” Evan continues, almost in front of him now, although his voice sounds muffled and far away. Tommy stops backing up and lets his hand fall down from his head, revealing bright red blood coating his fingers. “Oh my god…” Evan gasps just as a wave of dizziness sways Tommy backwards. Two strong arms grab him, steady him… but don’t exactly hold him, and that hurts as bad as this headache. Evan is so close Tommy wouldn’t have to lean in far to capture his lips… but he can’t. Not like this. Not while everything feels so off and confusing. 

He allows Evan to help him over to his truck, but shies away from his touch the moment he is able to lean on its bed for stability. Evan pulls out his phone and dials 9-1-1. “What are you doing?” Tommy asks when his jaw is grabbed, gently but firmly, and Evan is guiding him to turn his head. He is ignored as Evan talks to the dispatcher, giving the location and a short gist of what happened, before he stops talking abruptly.

“T- Tommy… were— were you in an accident?” 

Tommy can’t help the sarcasm heavy laugh at the ridiculous question. “Don’t you think you would know if I had been,” he says coolly. 

Evan sighs. “He has a pretty big wound on the back of his head,” he tells the dispatcher, and Tommy stares at him in shock. “There are staples but it’s been reopened.” Tommy feels his skin prickling. He feels this strong sense of unease, like the floors about to fall out from under him. “Hey… look at me,” Evan says, resting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and looking in his eyes, he turns his phone’s flashlight on and scans it over each eye. “His pupils are receptive. Do— Do you know what day it is?” 

Of course that’s a logical question but given everything it is like a stab into his already ripped open chest. “It’s… November 7.” 

“Okay, good. And the year?”

“2024…”

“Okay— wait. Wh- What did you say?” Once again Evan is staring at him confused. “You said it’s 2024?” Tommy breaks his eyes away; Evan is getting that kicked puppy look and he doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to make Tommy feel bad right now. “Tommy…” Evan pries. “You— You said 2024?” 

“Yes Evan, yes! It’s November 7, 2024! It’s our six month anniversary! But I guess that means nothing to—” His voice cracks. He covers his trembling lip with the back of his hand and tries to calm himself down. 

Sirens break through the deafening silence, and an Ambulance turns into the parking lot. Evan flags it over and it comes to a stop behind Tommy’s truck. Thankfully it’s not the 118, and Tommy doesn’t recognize the paramedics that get out to help him. They check over the apparent wound on the back of his head, and start asking him questions. Questions he mostly ignores because he is focused on Evan talking to the one of them off to the side. “He— he thinks it’s 2024…” he whispers but Tommy catches it anyway. 

“What do you mean ‘I think’,” he asks past the mountain of questions the paramedic accessing him is still piling on. Evan’s mouth clamps shut and he looks over at Tommy. “You said I think it’s 2024… what the hell does that mean Evan.” 

“I- I don’t— uhm…” Evan looks helplessly at the paramedics, avoiding looking at Tommy. 

“Sir, please, just calm down. Take a deep breath. We can get everything figured out at the hospital.”

“To hell with that,” Tommy snaps— which surprises even himself, because he is usually compliant with first responders, being that he is one. “I want everything figured out now. What do you mean?” 

“Tommy…” Evan begins, takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “It’s 2025.” 

“What?”

“It— It’s 2025,” Evan reiterates.

~~~~~~~~

Sooooo 😀 trying to actually get this fix rolling because I am not going to post the whole first chapter until it’s done! Fingers crossed I don’t lose inspiration before then 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼

Throwing out a couple more tags just incase you wanna share something fixing this mess thrown on our poor sad boys or just to heal yourself, or something entirely new! 🫶

@nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @30somethingautisticteacher @bangpop91 @racerchix21 @rdng1230

@somethingaboutfirefly @kinardsevan @bucksxkinard @unhingedangstaddict and anyone else who wants to share their stuff or just follow along 🫶

[riversofmars]

When All The Lights Go Out

Clearly, I lied when I said I would never write any Caitvi fic... Needed it out of my system, something something General Caitlyn Kiramman. I'm a predictable lesbian and can't wait until two weeks time for things to hopefully get fixed.

Spoilers for end of Act 1 of the second season. Porn with plot. Enjoy.

Vi is not prepared to give up on Caitlyn after their altercation in the ventilation shafts, at least not without having it out with her. Soon enough she finds herself back in her bedroom, climbing in through the window once more, and encounters the newly appointed General of Piltover. (Rating: Explicit)

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Of all the things Vi had pictured she’d say when she sought out Caitlyn following their altercation in the ventilation shafts, that was not it. It was a blunt and ill-advised observation, but also all she could think to say when she laid eyes on her. Set in dark blue and gold as her enforcer uniform - familiar yet utterly foreign - Caitlyn wore a long cape that made her appear taller than she already was, and more menacing too, as her eyes snapped up to meet Vi’s across the room.

The newly crowned General of Piltover had strode into her bed chambers with purpose, unaware of the intruder waiting to greet her, and she stalled. It was hardly more than a flicker of uncertainty and surprise that flashed up in her steely blue eyes, but it was immediately drowned in the ocean of dark water. If eyes truly were a window into the soul, Vi dreaded to think what it meant for the woman in front of her. They had once been one of her favourite features of hers, full warmth and kindness, but now they were empty of such frivolousness - sharp, calculating, and cold.

It was more than obvious that Vi was not welcome in her home - not anymore - and part of her wondered why she had come at all. Perhaps it was a desire to stand up for herself, perhaps a desire to find some measure of closure, perhaps simply her desire for Caitlyn alone, pathetic as it was to think after what she had done. Whatever it was, it rooted her heavy boots to the floor and made her square her jaw in defiance.

Of course Vi had not arrived through the main doors, imagining Caitlyn would have instructed her staff not to let her in. Instead she had climbed in by the window, and all the way up the side of her body had ached terribly from the sharp jab of the general’s rifle in her stomach. Vi’d had worse, so many times and from so many, but this was a phantom pain, sharper, deeper than anything she had ever felt, and she resisted the urge to press her palm against her side that seemed to throb under Caitlyn's gaze.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was sharp, much like every aspect of her appeared to be. Even her features seemed more angular, more set, as she stared her down with barely contained anger bubbling beneath the surface. She had not forgiven Vi for what she had said and done, nothing had changed, and Vi was beginning to sense the futility of her quest.

“I- I couldn't-” She hated how her voice shook, but it was a reflection of where they stood, with Caitlyn at the advantage, holding all the cards, and Vi on the back-foot, the one who had come crawling back. And to what end? “I didn't want to leave things like that,” she strengthened her voice, raising her chin to appear taller than she felt. Everything about being in the world of the Kirammans made her feel small. Perhaps, at least, she could be the bigger person.

There was a moment of silence, turning on the edge of a knife that was gradually snapping single strands from the ties that had bound her to the other woman so fleetingly. The easiest thing for Caitlyn to do would be to simply throw her out, but credit where it was due, she was not one to do the easy thing.

“Do you realise what you said to me?” The general's words cut through the heavy silence, and of course Vi did. On her way over she had replayed their exchange countless times in torturous circles. “That I’m acting like the person who killed my mother.”

‘Because you were.’ Vi knew better than to drive that particular wedge deeper, the words that crossed her lips were different but no less accusatory.

“You said you wouldn’t change.” While a rational part of her knew that there was no way of telling which way grief would take a person, she had wanted to hang on to her promise and that wonderful kiss they had shared. Her first real kiss, come to think of it. She wasn’t completely without experience - in other areas too - but there were only so many real, meaningful encounters one could make when spending their teenage years in prison. None of it had meant anything, and she almost regretted it too, now that she’d had a taste of what the real thing might feel like. Perhaps that was why she wasn’t quite ready to give up yet.

“And you said I should take the shot if I had it!” Caitlyn took a threatening step towards her. “Where was your faith in me? I wouldn’t have missed!” She bared her teeth in anger, like a lioness advancing upon her prey and yes, she had a point. They had both gone back on something they had said, but righteous anger flared up in Vi’s chest as she remained convinced she had made the right call.

“Would you be able to live with yourself if you had?” she shot back, standing her ground and the other woman scoffed, though no joy or amusement was to be drawn from the sound.

“Would you have been able to live with it if I’d found my mark?” she growled and Vi couldn’t mask the flash of uncertainty that crossed her face. When they had marched into the chamber to confront Jinx, she had been sure. She had let Caitlyn take her shot and simply turned away. But when she had seen her sister - much as she tried not to think of her as such anymore - with the child… “Thought so…” Caitlyn spoke bitterly as she seemed to be able to read everything that was going through her mind. “She's still your sister.”

“And you're still an enforcer,” Vi spat, trying to regain some measure of ground in their exchange and she gestured at her change of outfit. “Or whatever the fuck you are now.”

Caitlyn’s expression hardened as though she had just remembered what exactly that was.

“And yet you're here,” she stated simply, looking her up and down, examining the dirty, torn enforcer uniform she was still wearing, lacking other options and ending on the hex-tech gauntlets. “Why?”

She hadn’t expected to see her again. The realisation struck Vi straight in the chest and left her winded. Was it really that easy for her? As easy as it had been to strike her and walk away? Or was she simply trying to act like it was? Vi couldn’t tell, not when Caitlyn hid any thought or emotion that could be perceived as weakness behind the hard façade she’d built.

Vi had no defences such as these to employ and she couldn’t lie either; she wouldn’t! It was time for some honesty at last and her confession tore itself from her throat in a violent outburst, as raw and angry as it was desperate.

“Because you're the only fucking thing I want, even if you embody everything I hate!” she yelled, fixing Caitlyn with a measuring look of her own, drinking in her appearance with bile rising in her throat. “Perhaps I thought that given the chance, having had a moment to reflect on your actions, you might apologise, but that’s not something you people do, is it?”

Caitlyn simply looked back at her, no answer or reaction forthcoming, just a blank, icy stare and with every moment what remained of Vi’s fool's hope drained away, confirming what she should have known. She'd been blinded by what she'd wanted to see.

“Have you ever been challenged on something before?” she continued sharply and advanced towards her, clenching her fists, the movement only pronounced by her gauntlets that shifted menacingly. “Have you ever not gotten your way? Have you ever apologised for anything?!” She raised her voice with every accusation, until it echoed through the bedroom.

There was stillness in the eye of the storm that whipped up around them, grief, disappointment, rage, a deadly flurry. Vi was breathing heavily, pleading silently with Caitlyn, hoping she could reach her behind her impenetrable shield.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, it happened: the tension broke, the storm descended and Caitlyn broke out of her trance and senses, surging into Vi's personal space.

“You have no idea how many times over the past few weeks I have apologised to my mother for bringing all this on us!” she roared, losing her poise as her expression oscillated between rage and pain. “For my arrogance! For my stubbornness! For bringing you here and-” Her face was inches from Vi's, and it was a startling difference to the intimacy of the kiss they had shared.

“If you’re still looking for your mother’s forgiveness and approval in all this, I’m sure she would be very proud of what you have become,” Vi hissed, desperately trying to hold together the pieces of her that bent and splintered under the weight of it all. Everyone in her life had changed and where she had held out hope that Caitlyn wasn't too far gone, with every moment the outcome appeared more and more inevitable. Bitterness and disappointment laced her words as she passed her final judgement: “The fearless leader of House Kiramman. As cold as she is strong - a truly worthy successor.”

And there, Caitlyn's last measure of self restraint failed her.

“How dare you speak to me like that!” She yelled and catching Vi off guard, she shoved her backward, up against the wall behind her with an unrelenting grip on the collar of her uniform. She had always been stronger than she looked. “In my room. My house. My city!”

“Your city?” Vi echoed disbelievingly, fighting her body's involuntary reaction to the other woman's proximity, the way her body pushed into her own, the heat of her breath on her face. “Do you even hear yourself?!” It took all she had to fight against her, not because she was lacking in strength, but because of how much she wanted to have Caitlyn close. Desperately, she tried to ignore the ache she felt for her, resisting the ever-present urge to simply kiss her senseless.

Instead she shoved her off.

"And what was I meant to be?” she demanded as the general staggered back. “Just another thing that was yours?!” As tempting a thought as it was, it was so much less than Vi wanted.

“I didn’t force you to stay,” Caitlyn spat, catching herself on her feet. “You wanted to be here!”

“Because I thought you were different!” Vi's voice grew raw, half scream, half sob. “Imagine my disappointment to learn you’re just another power-hungry, selfish Pilti who doesn’t give a shit about people like me!” Despite it all, it felt good to finally have it out, unburden and disillusion herself from the notion that they had ever had a chance.

“I didn’t ask for this power!” Caitlyn seethed, breathing heavily but seeking to reign herself in, return to her composed self, and all Vi could do was shake her head, scoffing bitterly.

“Yet you wear it so well.”

“I think it’s best if you leave now.” Caitlyn decided at last, straightening herself out and raising her jaw. There was complete finality to her tone. They had both said all they needed to. “Take those gauntlets off, they’re not yours to keep.”

“Whatever,” Vi growled, surprising herself as she found she was past caring. She didn't need anything from the people of Piltover, certainly not their fancy weapons. “Give me my clothes back and you can have the uniform too.” She disengaged the locking mechanism of the gauntlets and the metal hit the ground, echoing as silence drew in, heavy and suffocating.

The end, surely.

Tears pricked the corners of Vi's eyes. Giving up was not in her nature but what was she to do in the face of such impossible odds and unrelenting force?

Caitlyn didn't answer but she turned, marching towards one of the chest of drawers that lined the room. Vi couldn't see her face as she busied herself in the task of pulling a drawer open, but she could have sworn her shoulders seemed to slump, if just for a moment. When she turned back, however, she’d pulled herself to full height once more with an unreadable, cold expression. She was holding a bundle of clothes, clean and neatly folded, the trousers and jacket Vi had arrived in Piltover in. Seeing the care with which they had been treated was almost too much to bear and almost enough to make her try again calmly, with a level head, but she wrote off the notion as quickly as it had occurred when Caitlyn didn't pass them to her as she approached, she simply threw them at her feet.

“If you’ve wanted me to kneel at your feet, princess, you should have played your cards right,” Vi growled spitefully, and swept the items off the floor.

“Fuck you,” Caitlyn hissed and the smaller woman scoffed, never having expected to hear the polite, well-mannered Pilti swear.

“You wish.”

There was a flash of something in Caitlyn's eyes, involuntary, surely, as she betrayed herself. Yes, she did. But it was too late for that now.

Suddenly, the air felt charged and snotty defiance took Vi over. It was petty really, but she was beyond caring. Everything was fucked anyway, and at least it would make her feel a little better to make Caitlyn squirm, show her that she couldn’t control everything.

In a swift motion, Vi tore open the uniform jacket that had always felt too restricting, uncovering her chest bound in nothing but white wraps. She was still dirty from the fight, smeared with dried blood and there was a dark bruise blossoming where Caitlyn had jabbed her with her rifle. But she also had a lean body to offer, strong arms and shoulders, abs that flexed with every one of her deep breaths she forced herself to gulp to try and hold herself together as the last good thing in her life fell apart.

The general took in a sharp breath, and Vi couldn't tell whether it was a reaction to seeing her injury or to seeing her so exposed. It didn't matter. She tossed her jacket at her feet, mirroring her perfectly and cocked an eyebrow.

“Give you something to think about when you're alone in that big bed,” she smirked and Caitlyn's eyes flashed dangerously.

Vi was playing with fire, every little jab adding fuel to the general's simmering, explosive state. She had gotten control of her emotions once more but how long for? Suddenly, the idea of making her lose it again was all too inviting. She would have considered it fun if her motivations weren’t desperately sad. Regardless, she took a step towards Caitlyn and leaned in close.

“You'll be thinking about me and what could have been long after I’ve forgotten your name,” she hummed a blatant lie. It was far more likely it would be the other way around. There was no way Vi would forget about her and the fleeing hope that life had more to offer than pain and misery. How she longed for the Caitlyn that had shown her kindness.

Suddenly, everything seemed to happen all at once. Caitlyn bridged the short distance between them, grabbed a fistful of Vi's hair and yanked her head back with such force that she gasped, only to silence her with a demanding, rough kiss, far removed from the tenderness they had shared.

“Shut up!” she growled, fisting her hand into her hair and pushed her tongue inside her mouth.

Vi kissed her back. Hard. All teeth and tongue, primal and desperate. She was drowning, perhaps they both were, in each other, and she grabbed on to her, clawing into her shoulders and holding on like a lifeline.

“You still want some of this then?” she groaned, but the general didn't meet her eyes. Instead, she dropped her mouth to the side of Vi's throat, ripping her head back further for better access. A whimper escaped her, but the flash of pain was oil to the flame that burned down her inhibitions. Caitlyn’s lips left a searing trail along her jaw, like an electric current licking across her skin.

“This is what you came back for, isn’t it?” she growled against her sensitive, exposed neck, lips pressing against her pulse point, keeping time of her rapid heartbeat. “Might as well see it through till the end.” A gloved hand trailed up her back, untucking her bindings, and Vi’s breath caught in her chest when she realised what was about to happen between them if she didn’t put a stop to it.

She knew they shouldn’t be doing this, nothing good could come of it, but it felt so good. Caitlyn wasted no time, feeling her up, palming her chest, grabbing her arse, dragging the wraps aside and Vi knew she was done for. Every fibre of her being ached for her.

“Fine by me,” she scoffed, trying to mask the desperate need in her voice and it seemed her consent had been all the general had been waiting for as she started to walk her backwards towards the large bed that dominated the room. She seemed intent on having things her way and Vi didn’t even fight, heat pooling in her gut, all too readily following her lead. Her legs hit the edge of the bed and Caitlyn shoved her down without hesitation, climbing on top of her. She tore away the last of her bindings and wrapped her lips around one of her nipples, dragging the thin metal rod of her piercing between her teeth.

“Fuck-” Vi gasped, overwhelmed by the intense sensation and she tried to reach for the other woman, trying to grab a hold of her shoulders, but Caitlyn seemed to have other ideas. She straightened up swiftly and grabbed Vi by the throat as she attempted to follow, shoving her onto the bed and pinning her there.

“I’m going to,” she groaned, undeniably as aroused as the woman beneath her.

With her fingers digging into her throat, Vi watched, transfixed as she brought her other hand to her lips, grasping the fingertip of her glove between her teeth and dragged her hand free.

A whimper escaped Vi, an embarrassing sound, but this was without a doubt the single most erotic thing she had ever witnessed, particularly when that very hand pushed down to her crotch, cupping her through the horribly restricting fabric of her trousers. She could feel how wet she was for her already and her cheeks burned along with the rest of her body under Caitlyn’s appraising gaze. She bucked her hips against her hand, an undeniable request for more but even in this, the general was calculated, squeezing her throat in a manner of warning, a show of power, even as she popped the button of her trousers.

It was maddening. Vi longed to have more, more of Caitlyn that was. Defiantly, she brought her hands up to her shoulders, reaching for her uniform, to rid her off the ridiculous cape, to feel some of her softness but it wasn't to be. Evading her grasp, she rolled off of her and before Vi knew it, she flung her around onto her stomach, a hand at the back of her neck as she pressed her into the mattress.

“Don't,” she growled menacingly, her free hand yanking down Vi’s trousers.

‘Why,’ she wanted to ask, but she didn't get the chance, Caitlyn's hand pressed between her thighs, into the wetness that had gathered there. Vi gasped, nimble fingers tracing through her folds. She bit back a moan but couldn’t help the way she ground back against her. A faint brush against her clit was like lightning shooting to her nerve endings, heat gathering in the pit of her stomach as she grew more and more tense with anticipation.

“God, you're easy,” Caitlyn hummed, the hot air of her breath ghosting across Vi’s sculpted back.

“Fucking stop talking about it and-” Vi snarled, pent up and needy, but her words were cut of in a sharp gasp when Caitlyn thrust her fingers inside her. “AH!”

It hurt at first, pleasure and pain in equal measure and the general allowed her a moment to adjust. It had been a while, there was no denying that and Vi clawed her hands into the sheets for something to hold on to when Caitlyn started moving. She spread her fingers, testing her limits and Vi muffled a throaty moan in the pillows.

“I did want you to be mine,” Caitlyn whispered a heated confession and picked up the pace, seemingly quite intent on making her just that.

“Fuck-” Vi's body screamed from the intensity of her assault, long fingers curling into her, hitting deep inside, following a furious rhythm. She knew how to work those fingers, filling her up and stretching her out, rubbing against her clit with every thrust in a delicious flurry of sensations. And yet, there was something missing. Even though Vi was engulfed by Caitlyn’s scent from her bedsheets, and she was fulfilling the part of her that had become almost primal with lust, her heart sank, further and further, as much as she tried to lock it away from the experience. She could be doing this with anyone. It was no different to a quick, intense fuck in the prison showers when she hadn't know any better and had wanted to feel something.

Caitlyn released her neck, her gloved hand rough against the skin of her back and she reached around her to lift up her hips, find a better angle, and Vi moaned when she hit a deliciously sensitive spot inside her.

“Cait-” she gasped, as her other hand found its why between her legs too, the rough fabric delicious against her clit. She hated how good it felt, and she hated Caitlyn in that moment too. She was giving her everything, yet nothing. If only she could see her face, at least know that it was having some sort of effect on her too that they were doing this, more than laboured breathing, low grunts and the force with which she was thrusting into her.

“Cait please-” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for exactly, and her plea made Caitlyn falter.

“Please what?”

Did she want to hear her beg? All Vi wanted was to know that it hadn’t all been for nothing. Everything they had been through. The heartbreak. Even if they wouldn’t fix things, she wanted to know that Caitlyn felt it too.

“Please, my back is killing me, can I-” She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding the general’s eyes and drawing some small satisfaction from finding her pupils blown with lust, seeing her face flushed and her hair hanging loose and messy around her.

“Fine.” Caitlyn’s response was curt and she pulled out of her, a low grunt escaping Vi at the sudden emptiness. She turned onto her back, her body beginning to feel heavy from exertion and suddenly, they were face to face, with Caitlyn hovering above her with a sudden, and surprising, air of uncertainty about her.

Had she thought better of it? Did she want to stop? Vi wouldn’t be able to take it if she did now, she was too tightly wound.

“Come on, Kiramman… Fuck me like the Zaunite whore you think I am so we can both get on with our night.” Her words were crude but elicited a response. Caitlyn’s expression darkened once more and she slammed her fingers back inside her, making Vi mewl with a new angle and intensity. She leaned over her lavishing attention to her breasts and Vi resolved to watch her, pay attention, commit what she could to memory.

Caitlyn scrunched her eyes shut, either lost to the experience or trying to escape it. Even in her increasingly delirious state, Vi couldn’t help but notice the subtle changes in her actions, and the way her rhythm suddenly seemed to falter.

Vi didn’t care, not really. It was hardly surprising she struggled to get her off when she didn’t know her body and took no time to learn about it either. At least she could enjoy the closeness a little while longer before the inevitable end. Perhaps she could claim a few more things before it was over.

Boldly, she reached out for her, grabbing her by the back of her head to pull her into a kiss. She succeeded too, for a wonderful moment, in a kiss that was passionate, but not as angry as it had been before and absently, Vi wondered if she’d released some of her rage in the course of this, but only until Caitlyn suddenly pulled away. Completely.

“This is not how I imagined this.” she choked out, and Vi was shocked to see tears pooled in her eyes. She didn’t allow her the chance to observe them, turning quickly as she fought to free herself of the cape that seemed to be restricting her movements and getting in the way. “Shit-” It was an unmistakable sob and Vi pushed herself upright slowly, unsure of what to say or do.

“No it’s not…” she agreed slowly, struggling to interpret her behaviour, particularly when Caitlyn offered no response. She remained facing away from her, perched on the side of the bed, fingers tensely clawed into the mattress.

There she remained and with every passing second, as Vi’s sweat cooled on her skin and silence reigned, the atmosphere grew more heavy and tense.

“Think we just- this was a bad idea-” Vi said at last when it became obvious that Caitlyn had no interest in continuing. A disappointing ending to everything that had happened between them but perhaps it was for the best. “No need to torture ourselves any longer…” Putting on a brave face, she braced herself for the final goodbye as she moved to the edge of the bed but suddenly, Caitlyn’s fingers wrapped around her arm, holding her back.

“Please don’t go…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, heavy and shaky and Vi stalled, surprised.

“Okay…” Carefully, she turned back and at last, so did Caitlyn, her expression revealed as every bit the heartbroken mess that Vi had been going through. She didn’t meet her eyes, that was likely too much to ask, but her gaze fixed elsewhere: on the dark bruise that coloured the side of her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn breathed words that Vi had given up on ever hearing. “I shouldn’t have, I…” A sob tore itself from her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for some measure of composure that seemed beyond her now. “Oh goodness…” Little by little, she appeared to be breaking apart and while it hurt to see her like this, Vi couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a little glad too. Maybe they could have a conversation at last.

“Thank you for saying ‘sorry’…” she offered slowly. “Luckily I’m made of stronger stuff, you couldn’t do this to anyone else-” She tried for some measure of levity, crack a joke but it fell terribly flat as Caitlyn hung her head in shame, drawing in her legs to her chest and hugged them, looking far smaller than Vi had ever seen her.

”Cait… what happened?” she tried again and braved moving a little closer. At the very least, she wanted to understand, and she gestured to the ceremonial cape that lay in an abandoned heap on the floor.

Caitlyn just shook her head to herself, a sad smile drawing to her lips.

“They made me- Ambessa, she- We declared martial law and I’m- I was made general-” she answered, sounding terribly detached from it all. “I want to protect my city, I want to stand up for my family, I want to- I want to be worthy of all those things but it’s tearing me apart…” Her voice had a haunting clarity to it, an innate truth that confirmed everything Vi had seen over the past few weeks.

“I know…”

“I know it doesn’t excuse anything but-” Caitlyn’s shoulders slumped and she sobbed, rivers of tears seeking a way across the plains of her cheeks. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on to this anger, this pain, this rage. It’s burning me up and everything that I ever wanted - for myself - I’m losing-” she whispered, defeated and Vi’s heart squeezed inside her chest, the small flame of hope that she had very nearly lost was given air to breathe and grow. She gathered her courage and reached out, brushing her thumb through the mess of tears on her cheek as she raised her chin to bring her to meet her eyes.

“And… what is it you want?” She asked almost timidly, and Caitlyn smiled sadly.

“You,” she breathed and while Vi knew she wouldn’t be able to forget what had happened any time soon, this could be the start of fixing things. She brought her other hand to her face too, hoping to catch some of her tears and slowly she covered her lips with her own in a tender, emotional kiss that felt so much more intimate than anything else they had done that night.

“Can we try this again?” Vi mumbled softly, smiling against her lips as she felt lighter already and wrapped her arms around Caitlyn who melted into her embrace as they continued kissing until both of them were out of breath and the general’s tears had somewhat dried. “How did you imagine it?” Perhaps it was a bold suggestion but it seemed to lighten the atmosphere significantly.

Caitlyn chuckled and it was a genuinely warm sound, far removed from the iciness she had been confronted with all night.

“Something like this…” Gently, Caitlyn pressed her hand against Vi’s chest and pushed her backwards, but without urgency and force. She engaged her in a tender kiss, tracing her fingers across her chest toying with her piercings and quickly finding the best way to make her whimper.

There was nothing rushed about it now as Caitlyn trailed open-mouthed kisses along her throat, her jaw, and Vi relaxed into the sheets, witnessing the change in her with complete awe.

“Cait-” It didn’t take very long and Vi felt herself growing hot once more, the heat of their previous encounter returning but it felt different now, and so much better, as Caitlyn mapped her body with her hands and lips, disposing of her other glove as she went. She paid particular attention to her stomach and the bruise that was her doing, pressing kiss after kiss upon it and mumbling heart-felt apologies.

Eventually, she moved down her body, settling between her legs and Vi, breathless and worked up, simply stared at her in awe, feeling overwhelmed, as Caitlyn’s eyes sought some sort of permission.

“Please-” Vi breathed and Caitlyn smiled, lowering her head to bury her face between her legs. “Oh fuck-” Vi gasped, overwhelmed by the intense sensation as she parted her folds with her tongue, seeking her clit.

“If you’d rather I didn’t, I can-” The general picked up on how tense she became, even as she wrapped her arms around her thighs.

“No, I just…” Vi couldn’t help the embarrassment in her tone as she tried to relax which seemed a big ask with Caitlyn’s breath on her most intimate parts. “I didn’t imagine it like that either…”

“If you want me to do something different, I-” Caitlyn pulled back a little but Vi quickly shook her head, dying to experience all she wanted to give her.

“No, no, I mean- my,” she cleared her throat, stalling for time to find the right words. “Experience is… limited. And- it was never like this before. This is-” All of it, the close attention she was paying every part of her, her gentle touches, no-one had ever touched her like that, made her feel like that. It was overwhelming and oddly terrifying, if just for the thought it might all get taken away again.

Caitlyn smiled and reached for her hand, guiding it into her hair where she might hold on to her as she dipped her head lower again, dragging her tongue through her wetness once more.

Vi gasped, but held on to her, quickly finding herself grinding against her mouth. Caitlyn hummed in encouragement, deftly finding her clit with the tip of her tongue and drawing tight circles and flicking every once and again until Vi was shaking.

“Cait-” she sobbed her name as the tension became too much, the sensation overwhelming. Her muscles seized up and released, waves of pleasure crashing over her and threatening to carry her away, but Caitlyn remained her lifeline, reaching for her hand and squeezing it until the last of the aftershocks had subsided.

They didn’t speak after that, not for a while, there was no need. Vi was struggling to catch her breath and Caitlyn gathered her in her arms and stroked her hair in tender, affectionate patterns that threatened to move her to tears.

“Why did you come back after I treated you like that…” Caitlyn’s timid question broke the silence eventually, once their breathing had returned to normal and capacity for thought too. “I was- I’m sorry…”

Vi turned so she could meet her eyes, bringing her hand to cup her jaw as she sought connection to her.

“Because I- Because I need to know whether the girl I fell for is still there underneath all the grief, and I’m sorry I caused it but- we all do things we don't mean when we're grieving. I know all about that… I remember when it was like to lose Vander and how much I regretted striking Powder… even now,” she said and Caitlyn nodded understandingly, fresh tears coming to her eyes as she ducked her head in shame.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… I genuinely thought I would have made the shot. I promise. I wouldn't have…” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“I know…” Vi acknowledged. “And I think I… part of me is still… she's still my sister. It's not that easy.” She knew Caitlyn deserved that admission too, if they wanted to have a chance at having a future together. It was something they would need to work through, whatever that looked like.

“I know…” Caitlyn nodded, resigned but not angry. “Thank you for stopping me. And thank you for coming back… I- I was wrong to think I’d be better off if-” she broke off, shaking her head to herself. “You’re… you’re like the light in the darkness… like the… the only good thing and I’m drowning in this sea of-” Her voice grew shaky once more but Vi was right there offering her reassurance.

“I know you are… and I want to help. If you’ll let me…” She wasn’t sure what she would be able to do. She couldn’t take away her grief and pain, no-one could, but she could try and help her cope with it somehow, even just by being there for her.

“Do you really still want to?” Caitlyn asked in a small voice, clearly not thinking herself in a position to make any sort of demands of her now, and Vi smiled.

“You’re my light in the darkness too. And I won’t let you drift away and drown, maybe we can just… hold on to each other…” she suggested, and Caitlyn nodded gratefully, meeting her in a soft kiss.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she whispered as they parted. “I know it’s a bad time to say it, with everything that’s happened. I know it will take time to rebuild trust but-” She broke off when she realised the look of shock on Vi’s face and spotted the tears that started falling. She wasn’t able to help them.

“I’m sorry…” Vi choked, instantly embarrassed, dragging the back of her hand across her face, but Caitlyn grew very pale.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that-” she started, but Vi quickly shook her head.

“Don’t be, please, I just…” she sobbed, feeling as though some age-old trauma had finally been lifted off her shoulders. It was overwhelming and disorientating as she tried to make sense of it. “I don’t think- I can’t remember the last time someone told me they loved me,” she confessed. “Not since Powder-”

Caitlyn pulled her back into her arms and let her cry, simply soothing her for as long as she needed it.

“Mother would be furious,” she sighed after a little while once Vi had regained her composure. “I’ve apologised for that to her too…”

“I love you too,” Vi blurted out without thinking any further than that, eliciting a similar reaction of stunned surprise, so she rushed to explain. “This version of you. The girl that is scared of what her parents will make of her bringing home a girl from the Lanes. The girl that strives for justice and can see the good in someone like me. And as … undeniably hot it is to see you acting all powerful and taking what you want… this is what I want. Who I want.” She took her hand in hers and pressed a tender kiss to the back of it.

“And that’s who I want to be,” Caitlyn agreed softly. “I don’t know what the future will bring, how things will play out with Jinx but… whatever happens… I don’t want to lose myself. Not again. And I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’ll be here to remind you,” Vi promised and Caitlyn settled against her, dropping her head to rest on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “For everything.” Vi smiled and pulled her close, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, ever so grateful that they had made it through the trenches and made it to somewhere they could both breathe. There was a lot to figure out still, things were far from alright, but they had done the hard bit, everything else would follow.

“Now,” she hummed thoughtfully, casting a curious look to the girl in her arms. “I think the perfect way to thank me would be to finally allow me to see what you’re hiding underneath that uniform.” In a smooth motion, she flung Caitlyn around who landed on the mattress with an undignified squeak and laughed while Vi crawled on top of her. “You may own all of Piltover, but I want you to be mine.”

“I’d like that…” Caitlyn grinned and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Perilous as the way ahead was, they would forge a path for themselves, together.

[dykedvonte]

Curly not immediately punishing Jimmy for assaulting Anya is something I don’t think a lot of people are viewing in the complex context for Curly as the superior to both of them and closest confidante they had.

Like I am in no way saying he didn’t under react or fail Anya by not being harsh or direct with Jimmy but it really is the case that he really couldn’t. Imagine being stuck in such a confined space with very little areas to genuinely hold someone if they commit a crime. It’s not like this was an event that occurred before they departed or that they have easy communication with The Pony Express to ask for how to proceed when something like this arises. Not to mention, Jimmy’s relative power in relation to Anya as the co-pilot and second in command, he has the knowledge and access to do something to her had Curly directly punished him in this setting.

They were also Curly’s friends. It’s not just the case of him mediating something between his subordinates but people he is personally invested in don’t want to see spiral further in Anya’s case while also not wanting believe his friend go that bad in Jimmy’s actions. They were both suicidal and Curly putting Jimmy’s stability first is both out of bias but also the fact he’s aware at some level Jimmy is a danger to himself and others if not constantly placated. Combined with the fact he was in denial or just not piecing together what Anya said it’s hard to say what he buying time for and what he had treat as urgent. This isn’t even saying he doesn’t care about Anya but he’s not going jump to the worst conclusions about his friends even if part of him acknowledges the evidence saying so. It’s a complicated thing but he’s still human and needed to process it on top of trying to keep a ship that already took on a lot of water from further sinking, metaphorically.

I just personally think that while Curly failed Anya, it was a scenario where there wasn’t much he could do to the best thing by her safely and like Jimmy, we are underestimating what a good leader would do in a very fragile and tense situation like he was in. By the time he may have been ready and had a plan, things were much too late.

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[cavity-collector]

i genuinely need to be put down like a dog i cant do this anymore man holy shit

[fakemagicjaye]

lvl40 is ALMOST done i'm working on the greys :v (as you can see this page isn't finished ◑.◑;; ) also it takes place largely in a bowling alley and i forgot about bowling shoes so i need to redraw those on SIX pages...........

[running-in-the-dark]

I've got to watch Leverage again. I can not let this stupid stupid man replace Eliot 🙈

[dutybcrne]

Thinking of Kaveh with Unhinged partners again

[spamtoon]

(Out of nowhere, you are approached by a familiar lightbulb-headed Cog.)

Ah, it's you, cat. Thinking you're oh-so-slick. Muttering and whispering under those raggedy whiskers of yours... Thinking I am unable to hear it all...

Well, you've simply underestimated my fantastic hearing. You probably want to know the reason why I'm here, taking a 'break' from my incredibly important scientific breakthroughs? It's quite simple, really!

(She gets close, and squints her eyes.)

I know what you are.

Farewell, now!

(She then leaves the way she came from.)

(Spam giggles immensely, covering her face... it always seems like she's giggling, isn't she? This lasts... at least thirty seconds. Longer than usual.)

And I know what I am too, Sparky! You broke through something, that's for sure. Really, broke through...

(She looks down, continuing to laugh nervously.)

You know, I find it odd you Havent tried to bulb blast me into the stratosphere by now. I mean knowing how you acted with Frostbite. Is there something peculiar about me that you perhaps can't quite track? Something about me that you... don't know what I am?

I know, I know, I'm talking to nobody again. But you were there when I had a moment today with the one the only Frostbite The Bravecog. You may be remaining. Lurking in the shadows. Knowing about these thoughts that I'm thinking.

(The giggling resumes, lasting far shorter this time.)

Your brother's a piece of fucking barp, by the way

(She braces for impact for a few seconds, wincing while smiling, before comically looking around to realize nobody's there. She sighs.)

Wow, okay maybe toony superhero show logic doesn't apply in this situation. Cool.

WAIT I JUST FUCKING REALIZED WHAT SHE MEANT but like. Dude if she meant that then what's the point I mean the whole ahh sellbot department barping knows unless you're Really low on the ladder. Heheh... maybe she did mean what I thought she meant.

Oh i'm so fucking screwed. What kind of bitch gets filament fever

[not-neverland06]

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott. 

“What have I told you about scaring me?” 

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair. 

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand. 

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one. 

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment. 

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities. 

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him. 

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him. 

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go. 

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner. 

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares. 

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible. 

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod. 

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table. 

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him. 

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day. 

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you. 

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant. 

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too. 

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head. 

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him. 

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion. 

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep. 

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are. 

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him. 

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that. 

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them. 

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes. 

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school. 

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts. 

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled. 

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him. 

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him. 

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him. 

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission. 

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once. 

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others. 

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning. 

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away. 

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her. 

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way. 

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it. 

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes. 

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back. 

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. 

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room. 

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them. 

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people. 

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away. 

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off. 

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red. 

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you. 

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again. 

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. 

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise. 

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view. 

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is. 

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone. 

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt. 

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong. 

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you. 

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again. 

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you. 

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[pr0cyon-lotor]

AU where instead of Shen Yuan being obsessed with Luo Binghe, he's instead obsessed with the scum villain himself. I mean we all know Bingge is Very Not Good Person™ but you know who else a Very Not Good Person™? Say it with me: Shen Jiu

Like just imagine a timeline where Shen Yuan is writing paragraph after paragraph about how Shen Qingqiu might actually be a good person but Airplane is wasting his potential. The other commenters are saying he's delusional because he abused the protagonist and as all these TERRIBLE allegations towards him. So he's a clear cut villain.

But Shen Yuan is defending his fav with the vigor of a devout worshipper. He's constantly siting parts that are obvious plot holes and how they could give much needed context to Shen Qingqiu's character.

Other people are demanding for worst things to happen to Shen Qingqiu to spite him. Airplane caves. Shen Yuan actively commissions art and fics where Shen Qingqiu is happy. People tell him "Shen Qingqiu won't fuck you bro"

Shen Yuan isn't interested in that. He's a freaky little man with freaky little likes. He'd gladly take Shen Qingqiu's cold glares and even volunteer to have tea poured on him.

When he finishes PIDW, he's been outraged that Shen Qingqiu was killed off a while back. He's even more outraged that Shen Qingqiu wasn't given any mention at the end.

Now, imagine with me that he gets transmigrated into some NPC, literally Unimportant Character No°5. Probably as the head disciple for drama reasons. And as soon as Shen Jiu is brought in, scruffy and hissing as he is. He immediately hugging his thighs and saying he'll be peak lord for sure.

Please follow me into this suspicious alleyway as I continue to explain my vision fueled by sleep deprivation.

So now imagine your Shen Jiu. You're a former street rat and demonic cultivator, you aren't expecting to be liked or respected. You're expecting it, you've come to terms with it a long time ago. What you weren't expecting was for this random ass guy you have to call da-shixiong is immediately insane about you.

He met you first day, literally saw you bite a guy, and immediately started spouting out how you'll be the next peak lord and the absolute envy of Cang Qiong Mountain. You conclude he's missing a few screws because he said it in the most disgustingly sincere way.

You try to continue on with your life, trying to beat him and he looks almost... Excited about you beating him. So he's an M, you think to yourself. But then you see someone trying to beat him or you on something, and this guy immediately gets aggressive. Okay so he's just weird with you.

You continue to deal with him. He's weird but also weirdly respectful. He leaves if you tell him to leave. He defends you like it's his very birth right. He's always there to tend to you as if you were a god. He doesn't touch you and only sits around like a dog waiting for a command.

You eventually get strong enough to beat him, and this absolute buffoon is over the moon about it, already spouting about your supposed success again.

When you actually become peak lord, it isn't surprising. Your hype man has been saying it since day one, he was expecting it for some reason. He continues to spout out nonsense about how he just knew you were going to do it.

So what now? You obviously desire him carnally. What is the next step?

Okay so I know this wouldn't fix them. Almost without question this would make they both worse. But, hear me out, it would be funny. (Especially since just know Shen Yuan's entire inner monologue would be him saying he's just being a good friend as if he isn't being the gayest man in the sect and Shang Qinghua is there. That's an accomplishment to outgay the author)

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo'66 au ! old!serial killer! rafe x young!sugardoll!reader

warnings : daddy issues/kink. slight of rafe having a god complex. smut. sick love/obssession/behavior. age gap. size kink. gunplay. spit. mean!dark!rafe. mentions of kidnapping/murdering. dark content. be careful with the warnings.

author's note : i think a lot about rafe having a god complex. and the way it could fix him to have a girl who cherish him and love him like he's just the only one. as the same i think a lot of rafe being a cult!leader with a sweet lamb. anyways, enjoy !

you knew you weren't allowed to touch his gun, but you couldn't pretend that the forbidden rules didn't excite you either. the proof being that you were still with rafe even though he had kidnapped you. you had found the glock in the drawer, and now you were having fun with it to the point where you hadn't heard your jailer come home. you were too captivated by the handgun to pay attention to that.

“ will you teach me how to shoot ? ” you asked in a soft tone.

“ obviously not. but i can swear to you that if you don't put the gun right in my hand in a second, i will show you how i use it. especially on a little tiny thing like you. now stop playing and give it to me, sugardoll. i already told you to not get on my nerves. ”

“ are you a serial killer or something ? ” you said to him, not aware about his job.

“ no obviously, i'm a babysitter. see ? how well i care about little silly girls ? ” he answered with the most sarcastic tone. “ i think you already know what i am, but you like playing dumb. because you're desperate for my attention. you need me to explain things, to satisfy your need of validation. that's right ? ”

he moved from his place, and placed himself behind you, your small body caged against his bigger size. you could feel all the pressure of his strength on you, and you started to shiver when his breath came near to your ears.

“ since you want to play with daddy's gun so bad, i'm willing to give you what you want. ”

“ no, i don't want to play anymore ! ”

“ oh i'm afraid to tell it's too easy like that, sugar. the game doesn't stop when you decide. the game stops when i’m done playing. got it ? nod your head if you got it.”

you really started to be his doll, accepting to nod whenever he wants, to use you whenever he feels the need, to move whenever he decides. when you nodded your head, giving him a little look, he grabbed the gun.

“ you will kill me ? don't, i can be good ! ”

“ you can ? no, you will. choose your words better, sugardoll. why are you crying right now ? the worse it yet to come actually. now, open that pretty mouth of yours. ”

you refused, shaking your head. you were terrified that he would kill you.

“ i said open it. if i have to repeat it, i swear that i will snap dry this gun further in your cunt, and everytime a sound will come out your mouth, pushing it deeper inside. do you understand me ? now, don't you want to be a baby sugardoll, full of kindness and sweetness ? show me how sweet and pretty you are for me. and listen to me. ”

with tears on your cheeks, you slowly opened your mouth. you could feel rafe’s smile against your neck. you were so submissive, the perfect victim. he had chosen you well the day he saw you. like a true serial killer, he never missed his prey.

“ this is why you call me sugardoll ? ”

“ see ? i'm good enough to give you a nickname. ”

it was sick but you smiled, you felt like you were special in his eyes. maybe rafe had a collection of little dolls but you felt unique.

“ don't kill me. i'm begging you. ”

“ fuck, you don't know how hard you make me when you're desperate like that. but trust me, i will make you see soon how good you make me feel. it will be your reward for being this sweet for me, sugardoll.”

he spread your legs, holding them wide with his strong hand covering your trembling thigh while his other hand brought the front of the gun down onto your skin. passing the coldness of steel across your tummy, while you shivered at the thought of dying. when he got to your underwear. you had heard his smirk.

"oh sure, you don't want to die. you want to be fucked. it's so wet here, i could stick the gun in without even preparing you, it would slide off so easily.” his mocked tone made you yelp.

“ i'm not controlling myself ! ”

“ and you don't need too. let me take care of you. keep your mouth open. i will put my gun in. ”

“ i can't do this ! it seems very dangerous…”

“ then suck it well, sugar. especially, if you don't want me to empty the gun on your gorgeous throat. ” he warned you, while pressing his lips on your neck. it was not a kiss, but you were so soft for this little touch. you wanted to please him, to see him proud of you.

he rushed the pistol between your wet plump lips, and you almost choked on it. “ be careful, doll, daddy's gun it's loaded. ” he said with a smile that made your tears even saltier.

while you had started to do your job, his fingers were lightly pressed on the surface, fiddled with the trigger. he loved seeing your petrified eyes, he loved feeling your blood freeze inside your veins, the way you resembled a frightened and helpless animal. you were defenseless and he had no limits.

you lapped at the cold metal at first, your tongue rolling over the barrel, swirling like a needy pet, and licking every bit of the object. you didn't waste anything, moistening the weapon with your own spit, some trails dripped down your tits. rafe had pushed the gun farther, almost into your throat. you choked, a trail of saliva raining over your jaw.

there was nothing amusing about it, but he found it fun. you sucked like your life depended on it even though let's be honest, it did. you moved back and forth quickly, rushed every movement with a softly sloppy gasp. he loved, no he adored the view of your ruined face and your mouth stuffed by the cold weapon. your great job made his dick painfully hard. you could feel the gun under your tongue, and the way it abused you. you drooled, a batch of saliva engulfing one side of the charger.

“ slow down, sugardoll, you're about to melt. ”

you felt dirty for being turned on by something so humiliating, the way you were pathetic for every single thing he introduced you to. it was as if he knew what you wanted, and how to exploit it. he could destroy you as well as shape you. you were nothing but the doll he wanted to play with. he knew more than anyone how to make you feel good. he knew well how to play with his toys.

you were killing him slowly with the way you were going about it, your pink tongue tickling the barrel, your mouth swallowing the entirety of his gun. every inch moved in and out of your parted lips. you lost count of the number of times you almost choked to the point you could throw up, you did your best.

the cold air of the room hit the soaked fabric of your underwear. it had gotten so wet down there.

you tried to focus on this dangerous game but you saw his bulge growing, his crotch distorting his pants.

“ keep sucking, i'm not done. ”

“ but ..."

he ignored you and took off his pants and boxers, freeing his hard cock. the next minute he was inside you, completely buried to the point where you could feel him all the way to your stomach. you salivated on the handgun, making a rain all over it.

as he filled you up, his thick cock abusing your tight pussy, the position was totally different, you were lying there, still the gun in your mouth, but now he was fucking you. his eyes were on you, and you could feel that motivating him even more to pounded you. your juices pooled on the surface the deeper he went. the slobber gathered around the metal. he rushed away your tears with his thumb.

“ stop whining, sugardoll. you can't cry when daddy takes you so well. ”

you really wanted to listen to him but it was too much for you. you were full of tears and they constantly wanted to come out, even when you felt good. but it was like the more you cried, the more he bullied your pussy, and by that, giving you more reasons to whine.

“ jesus, i'm pretty sure that you really like that gun in your mouth. ” he said with a firm thrust that made you squirm, your eyes wettering as the sentence. “ you like being this pathetic ? don't worry, i got you, i'm not judging you, but don't mind if i take advantage of it ? of course, you don't mind. you love being this sick, you're just a needy freak. ”

he pulled out before putting it back in you, inched himself deeper and deeper, letting you breathless. he was more rough this time, his fat length stretching you wider. his hips slammed your skin, his sweaty balls slapping you in motion. you nodded your head, your loud moans echoed in the empty room. his heavy hand on your tiny throat, pressuring it every time your walls tighten him.

his big other hand squeezing your small waist, as your core wrapped him harder. “ see ? daddy's making you a new home, right now. ”

his breath was heavy and short, the sweat of his body pressed against yours, while you were about to explode, so close to the orgasm. you were crying even more. and he covered your mouth with his large palm. he hitted the right spot again and again, without a break. you reached the second orgasm quickly, and you waited for him to explode at his turn. but he was taking his time on purpose. he obviously liked to abuse this little cunt of yours, wrecking like it was nothing your cervix. he glared at your glistening eyes with a proud face, while hurting your sloppy cunt. “ be patient, sugar. it's a matter of time but daddy will make you melt, and you will make a big mess on his dick to show how grateful you are ? ”

you didn’t answered, even when he released your mouth from his hands, because of the overheating.

“ you better answer because i can go to the next round. ”

“ yes .. yes !! ”

“ you're so naive, sugar. trusting me this easy, it's your own fault if old men like me use you. like did you really think we will not go on another round ? i'm about to make you dumb. not only your brain, your pussy, all of you. after this, you will not be able to think, to talk and even to walk. ”

your tears made him cum, and you let out a noisy and desperate whimper. “ it's sad for you that i'm the only god you can pray for, because i'm going to ignore all your prayers, making you on your knees every time for nothing more than my own good. sweet lamb, i'm such an uncaring god. but you can't hate on me, even a little, such a pretty precious thing you are. ”

“ why ? ” was the only word that came out of your mouth.

in fact, you were a little sad about this, because you wished that he cared a bit, even an hint about you.

“ nobody deserve you like i do. nobody deserve to touch you, or put an eyes on you, no one. you're just mine, and i need you to understand that clearly. do you got it ? do you even understand what i mean ? i will never let someone have you. never. ”

“ i really love you. ”

“ not only you love me, sugardoll. you adore me, you cherish me, you can't breath without me. do you understand ? how trapped i made you.”

“ bu…”

“ quit crying. you wanted this, you begged for. ”

“ i thought you only wanted to kill me ! ”

“if i wanted to kill you, it would already be done. i don't mind having blood in my hands, i'm a killer after all. but yours, i promise, i would never dream of, sugardoll. ”

it was very sick. but his words made you smile.

“ i want to hug you ! ”

“ don't make me regret my words. i still can choke you to death. ”

“ can i ask a question ? ”

“ jesus, if you don't yap more than a thousandth time each day, you're dead or what ? i swear, tell me your question, but choose it carefully because it will be the last. so, use your dumby brain very well. ”

“ i just wanted to know…if it's the first time you do this with one of your victims ? ”

“ why do you want to know ? ”

“ you need to answer ! ”

“ and you need to mind your own business. ”

“ i asked you a question ! it's not fair if you don't answer it ? ”

“ you better not try to raise your voice at me because i can shout, and trust me, the tears i will bring in your face will not be that pretty. ”

“ you're still mean to me…nothing has changed. ”

“ and you're still annoying. yes, nothing has changed.”

and you smiled at him, your sweet eyes melted on his unhichanged look.

“ someday i know you will love me too ! ”

“ bold to have faith, better to work on it, sugardoll. ”

you gave him a sweet look, even if he was grumpy, you wanted him.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

might i request reader fucking boothill after they take off his arms and legs? he's got mechanical limbs, so it won't really hurt and they can be put back on again, but like. the brainrot. he'd look so cute fr fr ♦️

Author's Note: You must also be a mind reader, because I have been plagued with all sorts of scenarios like this. Either with a robot/android character having their innards played with, or robot/android reader. — All of that to say; I went with a mechanic reader doing some maintenance on Boothill, and things get a lil spicy 👀 (ended up making the reader a bit southern too??)

Pairings: Boothill x male reader

Warnings: Male mechanic!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Boothill, robo sex, robo genital functions, Boothill's goofy swearing, fingering, grinding, mild objectification

“What seems to be the problem?” You ask. The man on the other side of the desk rolls his shoulder back a few times, complaining of some joint issues.

“Alrighty, follow me. I'll take a look at'cha”

The cowboy follows you into an examination room. Various posters are taped to the walls — cheesy motivational posters and diagrams of machinery, mostly. He comments on them, saying that he appreciates a place like this, as opposed to the squeaky clean shops he'd been referred to previously. You chuckle and thank him for the compliment.

Some tools are pulled out and placed on a workbench next to the table. As you're prepping things, you tell your customer to remove any articles of clothing and have a seat on the table.

“Well shoot, at least take me to dinner first, darlin'!” He teases, smirking at you when you slowly turn your head around and playfully squint your eyes at his remark. Still, he does as he's told, and removes his cropped top, pants, hat. Literally everything is off, and he takes his seat, waiting patiently for you to begin.

“Lift this arm for me. Ok good. Now the other one.” You instruct him through a simple visual check. All four of his limbs seem to stutter through their movements, acting worse when he tries to rotate his legs.

“Ok... Um, I think this'll be an easy fix, but uh...”

“But what?”

“I... am going to need to detach all of your limbs to fix you–”

—

While your customer was clearly not used to a procedure like this one, he did a wonderful job of following your instructions so as not to damage anything while you're removing his appendages. All four of them detach smoothly, and you set them aside on a spare table until you'll need them again. With the heavy lifting out of the way, you're ready to go in for the delicate work of recalibrating his connecting joints.

“You know, you're probably one of my best customers.” you say as your fingers tug on one of the small wires buried deep within his hip socket, “Most people aren't too keen on doing it all at once. And even when it's two at a time, they squirm and babble anxiously.”

Boothill inhales sharply as the sensation of your hands literally inside of him stirs something within his belly. His lower lip is scored with the marks from his sharp teeth.

You tighten a few of the mechanisms in there, and he prays that you keep your eyes on your work, otherwise you'd see how stupid he must look as his eyelids droop and his mouth opens in a silent moan. It's taking all of his willpower to hold those sounds in.

“Geez, this one is crazy loose… do you uh, have regular maintenance done? Because you really sh-”

As you grip another wire and pull it, a compartment on Boothill's crotch suddenly opens up, revealing a fleshy, dripping hole.

If the cowboy still had legs at the moment, he'd be trying to close them and hide his arousal from you. Already, his breathing has become ragged and heavy, on the verge of making other, lewder sounds…

“Ah! O-oh I am so sorry–”

“Naw, s'okay…” Boothill slurs before the beginning of a moan, futilely attempting to hold composure that is clearly long gone by this point. He can't really buck his hips, but you can tell that that's what he's trying to do. You take the hint, and curiously move between his legs- or, what would be the area between his legs, anyway. He gives you permission immediately, almost begging to have this spot touched.

It's… strangely soft… humanlike in both appearance and touch. It's unclear whether this is human flesh or synthetic, but realistic flesh. Whatever it is, it has nerve endings of some variety, because Boothill whimpers as you prod around the edges of the opening. More liquid oozes out as you toy with him, gasping ooh's and aah's with a curious grin on your face. It's so much that you need to grab a couple towels and place them under his hips so it doesn't drip everywhere or seep into his open sockets. Seriously, it's like a waterfall after a couple minutes…

“You're sure this is ok? I'd hate to make you uncomfortable…”

The hole between his hips pulsates, opening up just slightly, as if it's inviting you inside.

“Darlin', please– you already had yer fingers inside of me today, just… put 'em back in.” The cowboy whines. And if a customer needs a little extra service, who are you to ignore them? Especially one as gorgeous as Boothill.

A rush of the sticky liquid comes pouring out when you push two fingers inside of his pretty hole.

“Fuck, not that I get around much, but I've never seen someone get so damn wet just from my fingers before. Is it always like this?”

A quiet 'mm-mm' is his response. His head flies to either side as your fingers sink in up to the knuckle, effortlessly, thanks to his built-in lube. His hair is hanging off the other end of the table, swooshing around every time Boothill flings his head around. It's so pretty, you really wish it was between your fingers right now…

For now, your focus comes back to the multitude of wet noises coming from Boothill's hole. The towels under him have long since soaked up everything spilling from his entrance.

“M-more… gimme more–!!” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut.

Removing your fingers, his hole squirts out a bit of liquid, and he resembles a sad puppy until he notices you removing your clothes. When your hard-on is more visible, Boothill drools at the sight.

You free your cock and give it a few pumps, licking your lips as your eyes flick between the cowboy's fleshy entrance and his sweaty face. He returns your gaze with his own obvious lust, lolling his tongue out once you touch him again.

It's incredibly soft and wet on your dick. You rub your length against the opening a few times, grinding against him and imagining how it will feel once you're inside–

“Shi- fuck! Mm that's tight, cowboy. Holy shit.” You exclaim, almost going cross-eyed from pleasure as his hole squeezes you so good. It doesn't take long for you to grab his hips and thrust like your life depends on it.

“Goddamn, yer like some hi-tech fleshlight! Oh yeah, take that dick! Take it, slut.” Mechanical wheezing is the only sound coming from Boothill now, unable to speak as you pound his hole mercilessly. In a moment of animalistic lust, you crawl up on the table and fuck him like a sex doll, curling over his body with your own and pistoning your hips, drilling into his gushing entrance as he squirts heavily.

You groan right into his ear, “M'gonna cum in you now- is that ok?” Boothill rapidly shakes his head, shivering at the way your breath hits his earlobe. Within seconds you're fucking your seed further into his squishy hole, ramming in so deep you make the cowboy's eyes roll completely back, and he exhales a shaky “Fork yeah~”. It's hard not to chuckle at the ridiculousness of what he said, but coming down from your high takes most of your energy — including the energy to realize that this man did just say "fork yeah" when you came inside of him……

His hole is still greedily sucking your juices in, and you can already feel yourself humping the glorified fleshlight that is your customer. Needless to say, this repair will take longer than you planned…